


don't fall with no net

by princelogical



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11778201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princelogical/pseuds/princelogical
Summary: “Man, you gotta call someone. An adult someone," Ned says.Peter gives him an exasperated look. “I’m not calling an adult. Adults worry.”“I’m worried!”or.Peter's bad at admitting when things are bad, but at least he's trying.





	don't fall with no net

“Did you guys not get the memo that stealing’s kinda illegal around here?”

The four muggers look up in shock and every single one scowls at Peter clad in his Spider-Man suit, arms crossed. A twenty something kid lays on the floor and looks up to Peter with wide, frightened eyes, his bruised lips trembling.

“Assault too.” Peter tsks disapprovingly. “I’m disappointed.”

“Get that idiot,” one of the muggers hisses. With that, two lung towards Peter, guns drawn. Peter doesn’t even flinch as he activates his web shooters, knocking the guns from their extended hands. He springs in the air, kicking them in the chest and knocking them to ground, their bodies skittering onto garbage bins; trash dumps all over the alley.

“You little punk,” one says. Peter assumes he’s the leader; bulky muscle, but all orders and no action. But before Peter can shoot any quips, the guy has a switch blade in his hands and he’s coming towards Peter way too fast. Peter tries to doge, shooting webs up into the heights of the buildings next to them and flying upward, but the guy snatches his legs and just _slashes_ into one of his calves.

Peter doesn’t cry out in pain; he just kicks with his uninjured foot and sends the guy barreling into the wall. The last mugger comes up behind him, but Peter can feel it coming. He backflips over him, then turns and punches the guy in the jaw.

It takes approximately sixteen minutes to web the four up, write a sweet little note for the police, and assure the guy on the ground that things are fine, _you can go home now_. After that, Peter feels all the adrenaline draining physically from his body.

He manages to make it all the way to his bedroom before his left calf feels like it’s in unbearable pain. After taking off the spandex and nearly throwing up at the sight, Peter puts a pile of paper towels on the huge gash, split apart so far he’s positive he can see tissue underneath. He’s near tears as he pushes the torn edges of the skin together, wraps it in more paper towels and bandages, tapes it up, and calls it a night.

The night is restless, his legs pumping in pain to the point he feels as if he’s not going to sleep a single wink. Something takes pity on him around five in the morning as he settles into an unrestful sleep. 6:30, fifteen minutes before his alarm goes off, his phone blares by his ear. He jerks awake, snatching it up and answering it upon seeing Ned’s contact on the screen.

“Hungh.”

“ _Dude_!”

Peter groans. “’M not supposed to be up yet. What’s so important at,” he tiredly pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the time, “six?”

“Was that you last night? Catching the muggers?”

“Mhm.” Peter shifts and bites down on his fist to keep from shrieking in pain.

“That is so _cool_.”

“Cool. Mhm.” Peter’s body shakes as he pulls up his loose pyjama pants and eyes the bandage that has completely soaked through.

“You okay, man? You sound off.”

“I’m fi-” This time, Peter doesn’t muffle his shriek. The cut is much more inflamed than last night and the edges are tinted with pus.

“What’s the matter?” Ned’s voice takes an edge of panic. “Peter?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Peter_.”

“Gotta go.” He hangs up. He ignores his phone ringing and Googles “Infections on cuts.” He nearly barfs at the multitude of gory images, but he can’t help but compare them to his own leg and they look… similar. Oh God. Oh _God_ -

“Peter?”

Peter flings his phone under his pillow despite it ringing once again with Ned’s insistent calling and shoves his body under the covers. His eyes water with pain as Aunt May walks in.

“I saw the thing with the muggers on the news this morning…”

Peter holds his breath.

“We need to talk eventually. Soon.” She sighs. “All right. Later then.” She leaves the room, securing the door shut behind her.

Peter pretends it’s a normal day; he pretends his leg isn’t screaming in pain. He pretends he’s not worried that the infection’s going to spread and maybe he’ll lose his leg or die or _or-_ He pretends his hands don’t shake as he layers paper towel after paper towel on his leg then tapes them up. He shoves on sweatpants that don’t brush against his calf too much and a sweatshirt that blocks out the cold around him, but not the cold fear wrapping around his heart.

&.&

Ned meets Peter right outside school and grabs him by his shoulders. “Dude, something’s up; something is up with you. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Peter lies. “I’m fine.”

MJ makes her way over and Peter almost groans in frustration, but remember that’s not the nicest thing he could do at the current moment. “Ned won’t talk to me, because he keeps calling _you_.” She narrows her eyes. “What happened to you, Parker? You look like death.”

“Thanks,” he says.

“No, like really like death. Pale and-” her eyes narrow again. “Is that blood on your sleeves?”

Ned shrieks and looks at Peter’s right cuff, which has a few splatters of blood. Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, determinedly not looking at either of them. “Nose bleed.”

“Nose bleed?” MJ asks. She looks too suspicious. Peter knows it's a bad lie.

“I had a nose bleed this morning.”

“Right.” MJ looks slightly offended at Peter’s lying. “Whatever. See you around.” She marches off.

Ned turns to Peter, looking more serious than Peter’s ever seen. “Nose bleed?”

Peter shrugs. “Bathroom in fifteen.” Then he skitters off as fast as he can on his injured leg.

For the fifteen minutes he waits through class, it takes all of his self-control not to lift his pant leg and take a glance. He can feel the sticky, dried blood clinging against his injury. It feels suffocating in a way that’s not so nice.

In the bathroom Ned waits with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “What?” he asks. Peter grabs Ned and pulls him into the handicapped stall with him. Ned looks impatient, as if he knows Peter’s stalling, and before he can open his mouth, Peter balances the injured leg on the toilet and pulls up his pant legs.

Ned gasps. “What the heck, man? Was that from last night?”

Peter nods, peeling away the makeshift paper-towel bandage. “It was a switchblade. I don’t know what to do.”

“How should I?” Ned squeaks.

Peter drags a hand across his face. “I don’t know, but it hurts and it looks infected. Do you think it’s infected? I bet it is- Oh God.”

“Calm down,” Ned says breathlessly. “I think- uh… we should clean it?”

“With what?”

Ned frowns and opens his backpack and pulls out a water bottle. “Water?”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Peter takes it from Ned with shaking hands and unscrews the lid. He tips the bottle over and carefully pours water over it. The water doesn’t cause pain, but it stings slightly and is surprisingly cold for lukewarm water. A mix of blood and water drip onto the floor while Peter watches in fascination as some of the dirt and pus wash away.

“That’s deep,” Ned says. He swallows. “Do you think it needs stitches?” Ned reaches to lightly touch it and Peter yelps.

“Don’t touch it! And no- I- I- I mean, I hope not.” His panicked eyes meet Ned’s. “Do you think I’ll need stitches?”

“I think.” Ned’s hands are trembling too. “Man, you gotta call someone. An adult someone.”

Peter gives him an exasperated look. “Like who?”

“Uh- Mr. Stark?”

“Are you crazy?” Ned raises an eyebrow as if he’s not the crazy one, but Peter. “I’m not calling Mr. Stark!”

“All right then, how about… Happy?”

Peter face-palms. “I’m not calling an adult. Adults worry.”

“I’m worried!”

“Ugh, fine!” Peter digs out his phone and looks through his contacts. Three adults in total: Aunt May, Happy Hogan, and Tony Stark. Lovely.

“Call Happy.”

“Fine. I’m calling Happy.” Peter presses the dial button and presses it to his ear and ignores the gestures Ned makes for him to put it on speaker.

“What, Peter?”

“Wow, rude. Do you answer your mother like that?”

Happy sighs. “My mother doesn’t call me fifty times a week. What?”

“So, we’re bros, right?” Ned opens his mouth as if to ask something and Peter shushes him with his flapping free hand. “We give each other advice and stuff. Right?”

Happy sighs again. “What is going on? Are you in danger?”

“No. Well, uhm- Actually-”

“ _Peter_.”

“See, it’s not too big of a deal. Just a minor cut. That might need stitches. See, I don’t know much about that stuff so like, I couldn’t fix this myself really. I don’t know. Maybe I could’ve-”

“I’m notifying Mr. Stark.”

“No, no, no; don’t do that! It’s really no big! It just hurts a little. A lot, actually. But wait- Happy, are you-”

“I’m putting in the call right now.”

“Here I thought we were bros.”

“Peter, I’m transferring you to Mr. Stark.”

“Wait- no way. Hey! I didn’t ask for this-”

“Peter?”

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Ned makes the gestures once again for Peter to turn on speaker phone. He finally complies. “So here’s the thing; Happy-”

“Stop talking, kid.” Peter shuts his mouth. “Okay. Now, what’s up?”

“It’s no big deal-”

“Don’t deflect; no deflecting.”

Peter groans and runs a hand down his face. “I think I need stitches.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Tony says sighing. “God, kid. Is it still bleeding?”

“Uhm- Kinda?”

“Kinda.”

“Mr. Stark, it’s Ned, Peter’s friend.” Peter gives Ned a filthy look. “I’m pretty sure it got infected. It’s pretty deep and stuff. It’s not exactly bleeding, but it’s not scabbing over either.”

“Happy and I are on our way,” Tony says. “Wait outside the school.” He groans. “You can’t do this anymore, Peter.”

“What did I do?” Peter asks, offended.

“Keep serious injuries to yourself like this. You contact Happy or me or _someone_ as soon as you get badly injured. Got it?”

“I contacted Ned!” he protests.

“An _adult_ ,” Tony says. Ned nods along as if in agreement and Peter shoots him another dirty look.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now be waiting outside.”

“Gotchya.” Peter hangs up and sighs, raking a finger through his hair. “Guess we better go outside then.”

Ned helps Peter as he struggles to stand up straight without putting too much pressure on the leg. “He’s right, you know,” Ned says.

“About what?”

“Asking for help.”

Peter sighs. “I know. I’m working on it.”

Ned pats his shoulder and the two slowly make their way to the front. They make it (luckily), without anyone spotting them. Tony waits, as promised beside the car with Happy. 

“Kid, you’re an idiot.”

Peter feigns shock and offense. “Wow, thank you. I try.”

Ned nods in agreement to Tony’s words, the traitor. “He almost didn’t even tell _me_.”

Peter glares at Ned as Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter. “Oh, really?”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Get in the car before you bleed out in front of the school.”

“It’s not bleeding,” Peter mumbles. Everyone ignores him and Ned shuffles Peter in the car.

“Text me,” he orders.

Peter almost says maybe. He almost is petty. Almost. “Will do, man. And apologize to MJ for me. I think she knew I was lying about the nose bleed.”

“You think?” Ned asks. He waves and walks off.

“All right, Peter. Let’s see the damage.” Peter sighs and pulls up the pant leg. The toilet paper he’d hurriedly shoved up against it before he left the bathroom clings to the wound by a thin layer of sticky blood. Tony groans. “I just lost seventeen years off my life looking at that. Do you understand that, Peter? _Years_.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Leg up.” Peter shakily lifts it up, hovering over Tony’s knee slightly. “It’s an old suit,” Tony says. “Lay it down.” Peter obeys and Tony carefully peels the soaked tissue off the wound. “It definitely needs stitches. And it looks infected.”

“I thought so,” Peter says.

Tony stares right into Peter’s eyes, eyebrows furrowed. “You contact an adult next time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it!”

“Aye aye.”

“Kids,” Tony mumbles then wipes a hand down his face. “I have someone who can stitch this up for you and clean it out. When did this happen exactly?”

“Uhm… last night?”

Tony looks entirely frustrated. “Kid… God. Call. Someone. Me. By someone, I mean me. Call me next time. I’m dead serious.”

“I got it.”

“No, Peter, listen.” He looks just as serious as he did after the ferry incident and Peter feels his stomach plummet and heart begin to race. “This kind of stuff is serious. You can’t brush it off. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Peter says quietly.

“Good.” Tony’s hand rests upon Peter’s shoulder and pats firmly. Peter feels a little more reassured, less panicky; like the world is falling apart.

“I almost didn’t call at all,” Peter admits.

“I’m glad you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having another go at writing fanfic for this fandom? Ack. :P
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Edit: I changed the ending a bit to wrap it up (hopefully), better.


End file.
